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<title>Should We Say Goodbye? by Apollo Veilleuse (ApolloGeek27)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24954409">Should We Say Goodbye?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApolloGeek27/pseuds/Apollo%20Veilleuse'>Apollo Veilleuse (ApolloGeek27)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love - Raymond Carver</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brotherhood, Gen, Loss, Orphans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:29:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>727</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24954409</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApolloGeek27/pseuds/Apollo%20Veilleuse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s eight.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mel &amp; Gin &amp; Terri &amp; Kirk, Mel &amp; Terri &amp; Kirk</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Should We Say Goodbye?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This work is part of a writing prompt.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Mel turned his glass over. He spilled it out on the table.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>“Gin’s gone,” Mel said.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Terri said, “Now what?”</b>
</p><p>
  <b>I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone’s heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>It was wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terri should have been making a joke about how much a slob Mel was, taking a drag of his cigarette like always. Mel should have replied with one of his smart-aleck remarks, wiping down the table with the dirty brown towel like always. And I should have been lighting up the spare candle we had, complaining about how we should have installed electricity in this dingy, little shovel in the ground like always. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But we couldn’t. How could we when Gin slipped into our lives, scooping out all of the happiness and love inside us, and then ran out of our lives, leaving us all hollowed out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything was shaded in a gray that seemed to drain life out of us. Things that used to make us happy only served to remind us of the memories we had, memories with Gin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Gin was even a blip on our radar, Mel, Terri, and I were inseparable. We were as close as brothers could be with each other. The world made sense as much as it could to three men with only each other for family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Days were spent coming back from school, laughter in the air, as we played a good ole’ game of football with each other. Affection was a heavy yet pleasurable weight in our breast as we chased each other with no care for earthly burdens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then, one day, I decided to take a small break. An impulse that I, at the time, had no clue would be our downfall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting down on the floor, trying to catch my breath from the failed tackle I employed against Terri, I turned to rib at Mel when I caught a glimpse of another person at a distance, staring at me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Curious, I waved them over. “Hey, you, over there! Want to join us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The person smiled at me, jogging over. “Sure thing. I wouldn’t mind a game of ball. I’m Gin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I reflectively smiled back. “Cool, I’m Kirk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was from that point on that Mel-Terri-Kirk became Mel-Terri-Kirk-Gin. It was as if there was unnoticed space in our group of three, waiting to be filled, and when Gin came it was as if everything clicked into place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly days were spent with happiness practically bursting from our pores, a youthful air had settled around us reverting all to a state of being that we did not know we were missing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We weren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>un</span>
  </em>
  <span>happy before Gin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, we never truly experienced the sense of innocence that we had with Gin. For three orphans who had no one but each other, we grew up quite aware of the cruel reality surrounding us. Not that we let it sabotage our pursuit in happiness but that special awareness made all of us more mature than other children.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, this peace was not meant to last. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gin was a transfer student from Japan who was in the US for the year. After the year, he was supposed to come back to Japan. If he didn’t, the scholarship that allowed him to visit the US in the first place would be revoked and he would be unable to attend school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was inevitable that Gin would leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet, we did not know how much we would begin to love Gin as another brother, how much his absence would cause a hole in our life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I was the first of us to know when, where, and how Gin would leave. “Today. He’ll leave today from the airport in the next town over on a plane at 8.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terri bit his lip, thinking. “Should we have said goodbye?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” I said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyes were on the table in front of us, unable to look up at the clock. The candle light was slowly dying away, covering my face in shadows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mel swirled around the gin in his glass, the amber liquid sloshing around like the storm of emotions that I felt. His eyes flickered over to the clock on the side of the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s eight.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>Mel turned his glass over. He spilled it out on the table.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>“Gin’s gone,” Mel said.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Terri said, “Now what?”</b>
</p><p>
  <b>I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone’s heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark.</b>
</p><p><em>What We Talk About When We Talk About Love,</em> Raymond Carver</p></blockquote></div></div>
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